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 some time past, supper of venison steak was gratefully appreciated.

During the day's march numerous wolf and polar bear tracks had been crossed, but the caribou were the only animals seen.

The next day's tramp was a short one, not in actual miles travelled by some of us, but in distance made upon the course. We had, however, a good day's sport, for at different times during the day no less than eight deer were shot. My brother and I were not able to take part in the chase, for by this time, though I was beginning to recover, my brother was as badly crippled as I had been, and for a time had to be drawn on a sled. I should not, perhaps, say we took no part in the chase, for my brother made one remarkable shot.

At about the close of day, a small deer which Mr. Matheson had been following, and at which he had been practising for some time with my brother's rifle, stood still and looked at him with innocent amazement, at a distance of about three hundred yards from our train. Probably the cause of Mr. Matheson's bad shooting was the cross wind which was blowing strongly at the time, but, however, he gave up in disgust and returned the rifle to my brother, asking him to try a shot. My brother said it was useless for him to try, as the deer had now run still farther away, and he himself had only one leg to stand on. But, dropping on his knee, he fired a shot, and down dropped the deer.

Several of the best haunches of venison secured were loaded upon the sleds, but it was not thought wise to overload the teams by trying to carry too much. The bulk of the meat was "cached" where it was killed, to